


Part Time Janitor | Inbetween Realms | Custodian

by RikaKuze



Series: Part Time Janitor | Inbetween Realms [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Character(s), Original Universe, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaKuze/pseuds/RikaKuze
Summary: When worlds in between start to burst forth at the seams and spill into the mundane unleashing all manners of imagined creatures, ghosts, otherworldly beings and other things that go bump in the night-- who deals with all the spooky-natural incidents that fall through the cracks? Normally you'd rely on Sentinels to hold the line and maintain the balance between the worlds. However, when many begin to turn up missing or start abandoning their job to leave the mundane world with an "open season" sign up at the entrance-- trouble quickly floods through...With few options at hand for capable resources, the Council's Regional branch turns to...apparently the nighttime janitor. Demoted from the former position of Sentinel to Custodian due to politics within the magical side of life, Rhi has to use the limited resources at hand to do the equivalent of a janitorial clean-up focused on the supernatural.You never want to be the "part-timer" because you're expendable, even when dealing with the not-so-natural aspects of life. Janitor of the metaphysical realm. Only no perks. No health, dental or vision. No PTO. No good pay-- no real thanks really.
Series: Part Time Janitor | Inbetween Realms [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029966





	1. Caretaker Snags

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Custodian** ( _n_ ):

  * **a person who has custody; keeper; guardian.**


  * a person entrusted with guarding or maintaining a property; janitor.



  
  


_(Custodians, also known as janitors.)_

_There’s a level of irony wrapped in the definition of a custodian. It can have a very noble level in meaning describing one’s particular area of expertise as a guardian. Such as keeper of balance for humanity or the world. On the other hand, it can also reveal one’s point of view as to how you’re no more important than the nighttime janitor-- expected to keep unseen to the background and deal with taking out the trash._

\-- Journal Entry of Rhianon “Rhi” Llywelyn

* * *

  
  


Chapter 1

**Caretaker Snags**

It’s always when a room gets too quiet that the paranoia creeps up on me. Even doubly so when I’m the main individual everyone is focused on front-and-center expecting an explanation. At first, I had to cover the observations I made… the chaos that followed… and the resolution to the whole situation. I’d emerged unscathed and the same went for those that I’d extracted from the volatile situation. That… apparently as the debriefing from my contact on this contract so _kindly_ informed me, had been ongoing for months, closing onto a year now. Now, I’m pretty confident in my abilities but not to the point of being cocky-- regardless, my _methods_ were not considered as the most practical by many, even if it got the job done.

The thick pillars in the Council’s _courtroom_ of a sort loom ever so tall, judging me and making me feel smaller than the just under the five feet tall stature that’s normal to me in the first place. They were evenly spaced, but still enough of an obstruction to provide cover and protection in case a rogue caster got pissed off and decided to vent said frustration magically. There were no benches for an _audience_ to attend-- if you were there in the first place, it was either as part of the proceeding or part of the jury. Which was still a stretch too… this place-- it didn’t run like a normal courtroom. It couldn’t. Not when those brought up to the stand to defend themselves on their innocence, or lack thereof, were of the magical wielding type.

No. For a place like this, the Council’s room for judgment-- you pack the stands with as many capable spellslingers that could incinerate a guilty party if they didn’t play by the rules. That… would probably be _light_ punishment for an individual to go out that way. The room, at first glance, might look like a courthouse TV set with deep rich mahogany wood lining the walls, the benches… and just about everything else from the railing that separates the _accused party_ from observers and interrogators throughout the proceedings. What you wouldn’t notice at first is that the deep green carpet of the floor isn’t fabric, it’s grass. The room was cultivated with a particular crafting of nature energy. All wood isn’t carved, but it appears to be at first glance-- it’s actually grown into place by mages with an affinity for shaping earth and tree magics. The wood is a mix of ash and oak and heavily imbued with a balance of energies to give the _audience_ the first strike if it ever came to that. Mostly the complex weave of energies was meant to disrupt the flow enough to make it difficult to focus or concentrate on unleashing chaos within the small space-- not to say there haven’t been attempts in the past.

Plus, with a few nature-inclined mages on hand the accused could be restrained by layers upon layers of vines and roots in the time it takes a person to yell ‘objection’ to those gathered in the room. There had only been one incident where a proceeding got a little out of hand, that’s what lead to the installation of the tall pillars in the room. Watching with unseeing eyes, judging. Because if the land this room was made in coexistence with felt threatened, you’d be a living pin cushion as the flurry of wooden needles shot out in self-defense. There hadn’t been an incident since the _one_ time. It was a rather unnerving site to see even just that once.

“In your own words, could ya kindly clarify the part of how you inserted your presence into the situation one more time for those present?” Alen, his deep baritone rumbling a bit disapprovingly as he fixes a pair of intense hazel eyes on me, peeking out from under too perfectly cut dark hair to match _his_ version of business casual dress in contrast to his fair skin complexion. He might have passed as a youthful Kickstarter-type businessman, if not for me knowing he was far older than the hills and didn’t look it… I’m not jealous, just observant, he ages _really_ well. He’s also not my biggest fan, he’ll only go so far as to acknowledge that I can get the job done, but outside of that… doesn’t care to deal with me any further than he could throw me. I guess since I’m not around as much that means very little-- I’ve always had trouble with that expression. I mean… especially when he could technically slam me a clear football field distance away in one throw and with a touch of _extra_ help from his own preferred talents.

Clearing my throat after a moment of uncomfortable silence, I finally began my account for the group once more. This was more… a cross-examination to make sure I keep my facts straight after Lady Saundra tossed me under a bus with her line of questioning. Observing me in her professional tailored black jacket with matching dark slacks, only the sapphire silk button-up blouse added contrast to the strikingly vibrant red hair framing the ivory skin of her features. She was sitting smugly in the front row of this assembled group, green eyes zeroed in on me like a cat waiting to pounce.

“As I stated before, I observed the surrounding area first,” pausing to take a slow breath and keep my verbal pacing steady-- the last thing I want is to sound nervous. _Fake it ‘til you make it… I always hated that expression too._ “My point of contact did not appear at the appointed meeting location on time and naturally I go investigate to ensure nothing untoward is the cause. Only to find my reasoning is correct as I witness Ms. Alice, my contact, fall as the next victim to the sleeping curse.” I always hate trying to keep my words matter-of-fact over a more casual conversation, however over the years… that’s the only reason I’ve yet to be strung upside down from a tree by my toes if not worse for my _custom method_ of handling a situation that goes South. There was only one time I actually regret… 

Pausing for a breath, I brush a strand of my long mostly dark hair away from my weary brown eyes, it seems the hair clip couldn’t hold onto the tangle of hair that probably looks like a mad scientist experiment due to the mix of unnatural colors and fraying strands. All part of the physical damage sustained from this particular incident placing me on this otherworldly trial at the moment. Not that the rest of me looked any better in my battle ripped grey jeans that might have been once been skinny jeans, if not for all the holes in them now. The blue fitted graphic tee with the text saying ‘shhh...no one cares’ probably only added to my less than professional appearance. The shirt as well suffering from the battle, displaying tears at odd angles and making it less than salvageable at this point. It’s definitely not the most formal or flattering attire for a court hearing. I guess I should count my lucky stars that of all the damage to my clothing it didn't expose any of my more feminine undergarments or make me look completely indecent while standing on trial. This is my work attire, and I was expecting a fight, not going to a bloody business meeting. Though the current state of my appearance only reinforced the unfavorable reputation as a reckless individual.

“Seeing the current event taking place,” continuing quickly as I work to practice one of those presentation tricks from a class I’d taken-- engaging the gathered group by making brief eye contact with each individual within the room. An...inclusion method...I forget the proper terminology. “I took action to resolve the immediate threat and assist my contact who’d previously requested work on this same scenario that’d been in several reports to my attention before arrangement of this meeting.”

“I see,” Alen’s voice breaking the still silence of the room after I’d stopped speaking. After all… that _was_ the blunt and honest recounting of involve-- ‘inserting’ myself into the situation. It just wasn’t intended to go down like that. I must have let my facial features betray my wandering thoughts instead of the neutral mask I was supposed to be keeping since Alen cleared his voice rather brusquely before turning his attention back to the group that’d anxiously gathered in the room.

“So then Miss Llywelyn,” taking far too long a pause, perhaps a bit for dramatic effect, to keep the sound of my name lingering in the air so ‘everyone’ would know the name of the infamous individual standing before them. _As if they didn’t already know me by reputation._ To be judged and scrutinized for every single breath and word passing my lips from this point forward. I guess it wasn’t exactly too far from the truth of my current situation-- I’d resolved the contract work handed to me, cleaning up the mess that one of their senior members had failed to contain… however, I made a lot of noise in the process of doing so. They didn’t quite like that… and neither did I, to be honest, I’d tried to be discrete but there comes a time when the proverbial shit hits the fan. “Would ya kindly explain how the rescue of Ms. Alice given the current revelation escalated to a full-on gladiator arena challenge?”

I clench my jaw, lips pressing into a thin but polite smile as I nod. I didn’t care much for the manner in how he worded the brief description of said ‘escalation’ of the incident in question. It wasn’t like any of it was false… it… just could have been phrased better. I guess my reputation precedes me though, the entire room let out an audible gasp, which gave me a moment to take another pacing breath for myself as the room murmurs die back down into silence. Uneasy silence.

“Of course, Consul Burke,” nodding my head to Alen by formal address to his title as that polite, thin smile broadens. Oh… I’d give him the explanation, _in my own words,_ of course, while remaining tactful and blunt. “The individual that sought to abduct my contact did not notice my presence as I arrived on the scene. It took only a moment to discreetly neutralize the threat and safeguard Ms. Alice to a secure location. My manner of containing the situation was to banish the demon entity back to its plane of existence.” I made sure to add in the last part so there was no question as to the _discrete_ method of containment-- in this case, it doesn’t get more subtle than that. They poof out of the current plane I find them in, back home to their original plane. It was a lesser demon, no real big fanfare… just not everyone is prepared to perform an exorcism at the drop of a hat. Right now, I’m not even going to go into why that’s commonplace for me in the first place.

“Once the entity was removed, I began the counterspell to the enchantment curse. Only after Ms. Alice recovered was I able to catch her up on what I’d witnessed and learn the details of the contract work request.” That was the normal part of procedure… what happened next-- shit hit the fan. “Unknown to either Ms. Alice or myself,” I continue after a brief pause. “The entity was expected to report back in short moments after containing her within the sleeping curse. Unfortunately, that expected time for return elapsed during my conversation with Ms. Alice regarding the threat to the area and her people within the Council’s Regional branch.” Pausing again, just long enough to let that information sink in… just a little bit.

“My contact still had another task to complete, which I decided to accompany her and ensure a safe arrival. However, upon our leaving our current secure location, the higher demon found us mid-way to our destination. He’d started hissing scathing remarks about my parentage and challenged me first-- I clarified by asking if he was challenging me in front of Ms. Alice before acting. Once he confirmed, I set a barrier on the area to contain the destruction that could be caused by our fight. As you can see from the end result, he didn’t win.” It took a lot of effort for me not to allow a smug grin to slip on my face as I stopped my explanation to Alen and the rest within the room. Waiting quietly as the tension grew among the clamor of hushed whispers tickled the air like small waves. It wasn’t long before Lady Saundra started in on me.

“Y--you still turned part of the area into...a-- a fighting arena--” She’d finally sputtered out the words, having a bit of difficulty finding something to say as her usual ivory skin turned beet red. The woman couldn’t bear to lose face with those gathered, she’d been counting on me not following any type of protocol before initiating the challenge with a demon. If my word was to be called into question, Ms. Alice could vouch one way or another for me regarding what I’d just stated to the collective group. Funny that the Lady Saundra hadn’t thought to question the woman before putting me on trial.

Alen held up one hand to quiet the room, clearing his throat once before order was restored. He gave me a Look that was half amusement and half annoyance. Turning toward a side section where Ms. Alice, hands resting over her fitted navy pencil skirt with matching top, sat watching the proceedings. A black decorative silk scarf lightly drapes over the light cream slim long sleeve jacket and retaining a very professional look with a touch of casual southern charm, adding little contrast to her golden hair and blue eyes, patiently waiting for what she knew would come next. Alen approaches with a warm smile and bows politely.

“Would you kindly confirm this information? Is it true that Miss Llywelyn was challenged by the demon, first?” Making clear the order of the chain of events… before the barrier around the section of the Council’s Regional branch office was raised. It’s not that it was wrong to draw up a barrier to protect innocent bystanders, but it was _highly frowned upon_ at challenging other individuals-- regardless of whether they were human-like or not. Given my reputation to be reckless… and rumors that I was cocky and looking to throw around my weight after my demotion years prior to make a point-- Lady Saundra had been looking for any incident to throw me under the bus and have my powers sealed.

She’d thought this was _the one_ that would put me in place permanently, bound in the equivalent of a magical straitjacket for the rest of my life. From the rushed reports that first hit her desk...it’d appeared that I’d been reckless enough to draw a demon to the very steps of the Council’s Regional branch office to put the remaining members that’d escaped the sleeping curse in harm's way… along with Ms. Alice herself. This… was far from the truth… and Lady Saundra had been counting on my reputation to not follow protocol or have any way to prove my actions in my defense. To be honest… I’d been lucky this time to have a witness-- she might have won if not for that. Might.

“Yes,” nodding to Alen, a strong yet quiet voice filling the room as Ms. Alice Wraith confirms my statement. “Miss Llywelyn received several derogatory remarks and threats before the demon challenged her-- she verbally asked to confirm if he had just challenged her before acting.” I could have sworn the air went out of the room after she’d stopped speaking. I also thought I heard Lady Saundra’s quiet mental scream of disbelief go out to the Void and beyond in my head at the same time. _That was rather amusing._ Without the eye witness that has more rank than I do right now with the Council… I’d probably have a more difficult time defending myself in the _continued display of recklessness_ case being brought against me. Though… I would have likely lured the demon away from that regional branch building and its members instead of making a last stand fight right at their doorsteps. Maybe I should have taken the risk at doing so anyway, despite complications-- it would have saved the whole _court trial_ for my recent contractual performance. Which is just one step below a harsh magical evaluation or performance review… in my opinion.

“Then,” pausing as his word broke through the wave of murmurs spreading throughout the room, waiting for silence once more. “As procedure was maintained, even in extenuating circumstances, I see this matter fit to be dropped regarding any discipline for Miss Llywelyn’s actions in her contract service to the Council members of this region. If there are any opposed, speak now.” There was really only one person that would dare to challenge him right now, and she was a quiet shade of crimson at the moment. Without any word from the attending group, Alen dismisses the proceedings.

Lady Saundra was the first to huff and storm out of the room, and to me… that was my cue to leave-- or would have been if a strong hand didn’t suddenly rest upon my shoulder. “My office in ten,” Alen states, giving me a _Look_ implying I should be _very_ prompt. He didn’t say another word, but turned his attention back to Ms. Alice, escorting her out of the room to chat with her briefly… I only caught traces of him mentioning something on additional security measures for their branch before the door leading out closes behind them and cut me off from learning more about the additional details of their conversation.


	2. Mandatory Retirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still guilty when proven innocent. Go fig.

Chapter 2

**Mandatory Retirement**

I made certain to be prompt and on time to Consul Alen Burke’s office. If I could have been  _ inside _ his office and seated in a chair across from his desk filing my nails, I would-- just to make a point. However, the man was presently engaged in the final parts of a conversation with someone over the phone. A fairly heated conversation from the stern notes of his baritone voice managing to seep outside the confines of that room. I have pretty good hearing, but even still I could only make out a few words here and there. I did note that Lady Saundra’s name popped up a couple of times, that couldn’t be good. At any rate, I resign myself to containing such  _ amusing _ ideas to my mind within the waiting room just outside his office door. It annoys me when I’m directed, or even downright ordered, to be prompt for any kind of appointment and then left waiting...and waiting...as if my time didn’t matter.

The reception room, if a more mundane individual were actually allowed within one of the Council offices, wouldn't look like anything special. Just a simple office layout with a bit of aesthetic appeal for both style and hidden functional magic application. All the wood within the office was a dark oak-- desks, tables, and chairs all possessing a deep, rich finish. Of the more interesting little facts, the mundane wouldn't catch onto is the wood lining around the bottom and mid-section of the room's walls-- at a distance appeared like intricately detailed wood carvings adding to the room decor. Though anyone spending a fair bit of time studying the wood with even a basic level of magical wards could piece together the runic characters to get the hint of keeping one's magical mischief to themselves. Even without being able to accurately identify the level of manifestation the wards could take, they’d be able to tell it was of a firmly protective nature. I can't say I've ever heard a tale of anyone causing a ruckus in Alen's office before, but I have heard prior stores of other mishaps within different Council offices. All though it was more word-of-mouth, the tales weren't pretty.

Aside from that, most probably wouldn't even pay attention to the rich warm colors reminiscent of a sunny fall day that fill the room. Along the walls that exude a deep, warm golden hue a few choice pictures of autumn scenery nicely tie the interior decor together with a single theme. The landscape pictures appeared so realistic, one could almost imagine walking right into them and down the path as if walking through an open doorway. Even the plush carpeting beneath one's feet was of an earthy brown, broken only slightly by the reddish-orange glow within the faint damask pattern of the fabric for the chairs present for guests to rest a spell before being seen. Yet again, there was even more hidden runes woven within the fabric pattern, noticeable to the well trained magical eye. Most with basic knowledge would be able to piece together the bindings to keep a person quite literally in their seat should they become unruly for any reason.

To date, I've never heard of any instance where even these modest spell runes had been activated within Alen's office. Though there had been a time when made waiting too long that I'd personally entertained the idea of testing said durability of these magic wards against my own. Kind of a private game between Alen and I… well almost, he was never really amused or interested with my little tests anymore. Not since he ceased to be my active instructor. Overall the room would be somewhat soothing, if not for the fact that I was here waiting to deal with the aftermath of my more recent contract work for the Council.

I’d rather be back home trying to soak in a tub from the aches and pains from my recent excursion to the between realms-- it’s not like layering a protective barrier to keep a supernatural fight from affecting the mortal realm was a cakewalk. The energy it consumes was enough to make a person feel as if they were starving for weeks to shield the space equivalent of a tiny smart car.  _ Yes, I’m talking about that tiny car that doesn’t even look like much of a car. _ In principle, one is basically telling the Laws of Energy to reshape themselves as a pocket of space to cushion the world of the supernatural away from the mundane world, like a magical kind of bubble wrap that should it pop-- well...there goes the neighborhood and everything within it, perhaps quite literally. Given that I’d just shielded a good field of area surrounding, and even including the Council’s Regional branch building itself-- I surprise even myself sometimes. I should be tapped out of energy right about now. The fact that I can keep walking instead of dragging my limbs along the floor like a newborn kitten trying to figure out motor skills for the first time is rather baffling to me at the moment.  _ Must be the coffee this morning... _

That didn’t even accommodate holding a full-on fight within the boundaries of such protection-- it’s the reason why Sentinel members work in pairs. Sentinel’s are basically guardians tasked with keeping a balance between the mundane world and the non-mundane world from mixing badly, like oil and vinegar. There’s always going to be a time when it’s unavoidable, but there’s a special team that deals with cases like that. Assigned with designated jurisdictions to cover and protect, it’s almost like a beat cop with a new rookie-- an individual and their partner patrolling the area for suspicious activity. Though basically, the role of one Sentinel was to shield the area while the other did the heavy lifting of fighting if required. Most entities never wanted to deal with a Sentinel in the first place, but there were exceptions… like those demonically possessed could care less if they were in front of the Queen of England or not… let alone a Sentinel ready to detain them. Regardless, I wasn’t really given the option to go home and shower first before my  _ court appearance _ to the Council’s Regional branch office, which I’d managed to offend through my personal efforts to protect it from high-tier demonic chaos. It just goes to show that you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t when doing the right thing.

The sudden loud click of a phone being forcefully set back into the receiver cradle was my audible cue to sit up straight to get this  _ lecture _ over with so I could go home. Sure enough, a half a breath later, the click of the doorknob turning as the door opens reveals Alen’s office… and a very grim and stern  _ Look _ that might kill if he’d put any Power behind the expression. Without a word, he gestures for me to come inside and have a seat-- to say that the feeling of dread didn’t wash over me at this point would be lying. I’d been in  _ complicated _ matters before resulting in an all-too-routine lecture from Alen shortly after… but this had a distinctly different vibe. Whatever quip I had worked up to say fell dead on my lips as I slid into the room as well as the chair across from Alen’s desk, not daring to make a sound. My heart sunk further into the pit of my stomach as I hear the door close behind me with the telltale click of the lock sliding into place for  _ assured _ privacy  _ without _ interruption.

Alen’s personal office held to the same autumn theme as the reception waiting room, rich oak wood mixed with golden hues along the walls to touch the earthy plush carpeted floor. A few bookshelves line the wall to either side of the main window that shimmered with a faint magical glow of protection. Even the chairs and desk remained consistent with the color and theme. However… not the wards, it’s not the first time I’ve seen them, but there were additional layers woven to the reddish-gold damask patterning as if it overlapped itself for an interesting three dimensional effect. Part of the binding would hold the seated individual in place, the other set of runes… could be quite deadly when activated. I mean, Alen was part of the Council, after all, it wouldn’t do well to have someone actually make it into the inner sanctum and manage to incinerate such a high ranking member. Though that would be if they could get past the runes carved into the edges of the large office desk, what appeared to be more like decorative Celtic knotwork with runic symbols hidden within the threads of the design were actually a living spell made to throw up a heavy barrier that would deflect the attempted assailant's magics. Which would be quite gruesome to watch should one decide to throw a fireball towards my former mentor and find themselves suddenly bound to the chair only to watch the desk shield magics lob it back directly to do more than third-degree burns while the other chair runes fire up with their own two cents of magical retaliation. Let’s just say, I’ve never heard any of these wards going off within his inner office.

Doing my best not to fidget in my seat, I wait as Alen seats himself across from me in his own high back desk chair. At least as patiently as possible as fear and doom threaten to engulf me in the uneasy silence. He watches me quietly as if making some further assessment before giving a slight nod and briefly closing his eyes as he sits forward-- arms resting on the oak desk as he steepled his fingers together, narrowing his gaze on me. It’s another long moment that threatens to take my breath from me… and then he finally speaks.

“Feeling overworked lately?” he asked in a far less stern tone than I’d been expecting, in fact, it was actually rather consoling-- that only sent more warning bells off in my head.

“N-no more than the usual,” stumbling on the first word, taken aback at the congenial tone of voice. “You know how it is… cleaning up the scene-- long hours, very little rest between calls...always on-the-go daily--”

Somehow I manage not to choke on my words as I drop back into awkward silence. He just nodded with each item I verbally ticked off before my thoughts got bogged down by the unease growing in the pit of my stomach as it falters to a dead stop. ‘ _ Was he actually listening to my concerns? Genuinely listening? No… there’s something else up…’ _ This was perhaps the first time in ages since Alen had made me feel ill at ease like this-- our first meeting as fellow colleagues of a sort didn’t go over very well, but this felt decidedly different than that time. Way different. I was prepared to sling insults back and forth… not… this-- not  _ nice _ Alen. Which was a creepy thought in its own right.

“Well then,” his voice taking on a bit of an upbeat tone as he gives a rather unnerving warm smile to me. To someone else, it might appear quite welcoming and reassuring, but I know him better-- over the years you do not want to see  _ nice _ Alen. “It sounds like you’re  _ long _ overdue for a vacation. An extended one.”

“Extended-- what do you mean? Cut the crap here Alen and play it straight--” a stern  _ Look _ from Alen cut my tirade off short, but at the same time I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “…seriously… what’s this about?” managing to coax the question to pass my lips after a very long and uneasy moment being scrutinized by his hard gaze-- I could have sworn he was trying to burn a hole through me for the outburst.

“What  _ this _ is about,” he begins quietly, leaning back in his chair and that slight change in distance allows me a small breath of relief. “Is your performance. Currently as well as  _ previously. _ ” Letting the emphasis on that last word linger just a touch longer than I was comfortable with-- if my heart hadn’t already sunk to the pit of my stomach it would have then, so it tried to bury itself deeper and eject itself from my whole body without success.

“Look… you know Lady Saundra has it out for me,” feeling the need to explain today’s court proceedings and stammering out the first and obvious point between us, he knew just as well as I did she’d stirred the pot. “I did the best I could given the situation--”

Alen raised a hand, silencing any further explanation I would have cobbled together at this point. It was rather unnerving that the smallest of gestures from this man had me on the ropes right now. I wanted ever so much for this meeting to be over with and back home soaking in a warm bath with a glass of wine. …maybe buried in bubbles for good measure… I wouldn’t have to wait long for that wish, but it came with an unfortunate caveat.

“I know what you  _ did _ and what you are  _ clearly _ capable of,” leveling a weary look at me as he finally breaks that uncomfortable silence. “This is why, from now going forward-- you’re on mandatory leave.”

The air went out of the room and I thought I did swallow my heart back into my body at those last words. Stunned, I just sat there for a long moment and stared back at Alen. I could feel that terror shift inside me to something more like deadly calm as I took a slow breath. For whatever reason, when I hit a certain level of pissed off… I shift into this mood. The odd calm and controlled presence that fills a space more than one would usually expect from someone of my short stature.

“Explain,” keeping my voice steady and blunt. I already knew arguing wasn’t going to change what was now to transpire, but I wanted to know what this was going to mean for me and I’d make Alen state the terms before providing any questions of my own.

“Think of it as an early retirement-- many never get that,” he coughs, a bit uneasy under my suddenly hard gaze, softening his tone before continuing. “You can go live your life, and no longer worry about the odd late-night summons to work on Council matters. You could… do things you’ve never felt you had time for prior.”

It almost sounded like for  _ just _ half a second that he was going to say something along the lines of ‘take up a hobby like knitting or crochet’ but decided better on not pissing me off further. I didn’t like what he was stating, but at the same time this was coming through him from someone else much higher in the food chain-- likely the phone call that had me in the waiting room for so long when I’d been prompt as requested.

“Basically you’re ‘letting me go’ and no longer require my services, correct? Or have I somehow  _ misunderstood _ what you’ve just told me?” keeping my tone even and unemotional, which surprised even me right now. This, for as much as I had griped about the long hours and the lack of Paid-Time-Off or respect for what I did, being an active Custodian was a large part of my life. The part I took great pains to juggle with my attempts to be  _ normal _ in the mundane world while holding a job and going to school via online night classes and whatnot. The reason I was dead tired every morning, but it was a job that needed to be done. One I understood and respected. Honestly, I knew at some point in my life the torch would have to be passed down to younger generations… but this was still too early-- too sudden. I’d figured I still had years left to figure out what I’d do, not hours.

“Your service has come to a close at this time. You’ll be given a severance package to help with the sudden adjustment,” as if that phrase alone would be enough to console or reassure me. “It’s… been a pleasure working with you, and I’m sorry to see you go.” There was actually a trace of genuine remorse in his voice at that last statement, something I don’t think he intended to let slip and even if Alen and I had usually been at odds on the procedure, the sentiment was certainly unexpected. I didn’t think the man would have batted an eyelash at my absence, but I guess I had him pegged wrong. If my head were clear and focused at the time-- I might have actually gotten a bit teary-eyed about that.

There wasn’t really much to say after that point, outside of the off-boarding paperwork and processing-- yes, even in the magical communities there’s the nitty-gritty paper trail to deal with surrounding matters like this. I’m not particularly one for long goodbyes or even goodbyes in general. Plus, given the former rank demotion to that of a basic Custodian… it’s not like many knew me outside of the whispers and rumors that floated around with my bad reputation. So it was basically the handful of staff in Alen’s personal office dealing with closing up my file that knew I would be leaving on a  _ long term _ basis.

Oh yeah… and one other thing-- sealing my Power. Given the nature of my  _ early retirement, _ it was seen as a needed bit of formality to finalize my departure from the Council’s service officially. Not like I could hand over a gun and badge, but that’s essentially what this felt like now. Maybe my mind was playing this a bit over the top given how Hollywood portrayed scenes like this in film or TV. The process was relatively painless, just…  _ very _ unsettling. To know and feel so connected to a flow of energy that’s the same as breathing air, and suddenly having it cut off-- it felt suffocating. It was a void of nothingness. The absence of something being there and knowing something should be there, unable to see or touch… numb and unfeeling. Empty.

Alen assured me that it was nothing personal, just that those higher up thought I’d  _ earned _ the break given my most  _ recent _ display of action while on the job. Reviewing my case log and the time I’d put in with the Council over the years before and after my tenure as a Sentinel-- it was decided my  _ early retirement _ would be best for all parties involved. Though it was more likely just better for them, they didn’t want to have  _ another _ incident to explain or cover-up within the magical communities.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I kept it together… not losing my temper and just going through the motions of sitting still while Alen privately drew up the sigils and runes in the hidden workspace of his office with me at the center. I never suspected he’d be without a small makeshift workspace, but the way it was neatly hidden from view within a set of carefully arranged bookcases that even to my more scrutinizing eyes astounded me. It was an odd mix of sensations as he worked. The sensation of creeping vines that felt like wispy spiderwebs draping themselves around my body, almost a snug fit but were I to move I could still do so… I just didn’t at the time. Stunned silence taking root. At one point the tingling webbing sensation felt like it was absorbed into my body before it stiffened and then… and then I just felt that numb nothingness, a void. It took a long moment to realize I’d still been holding my breath even after he was done and looking at me.

The rest of the required paperwork took far less time to complete than I’d expected. Most of the process apparently being started after Alen made a quick call to his front office staff before bringing me to that side workspace to seal my talents up nice and tight. There were just a few places my signature was required on paper to be to finalize the process. Lydia was clinically detached as I found myself handed a small, neat stack of documents with the details of the severance package given to me. Already funds had been sent to my account in a nondescript manner so as to look  _ normal _ to the rest of the mundane world. According to what I could briefly make out when signing some of the required documents to my little  _ care package _ there would be a few additional payments over the span of the next several months. In that time I’d need to make use of securing a more sustainable way of supporting myself-- I was off the Council’s payroll from that point on and being left to my own devices. Well, that sucked.

After the last page was signed and my packet was firmly in hand, Alen casually escorted me out of the office and the Council grounds themselves. Right up to a conveniently idle taxi cab that would take me wherever I wanted on his dime-- it was the least Alen said he could do to help start off my  _ new adventure _ as a retiree. If I hadn’t been so shellshocked, I would have either slapped him or made more of a vocal scene about that comment… neither of which happened and perhaps that was for the best, all things considered. I felt numb, in more ways than one, so the best my mind could focus on at the moment was getting home. Still, I couldn’t help but make a backward glance to Alen’s building complex as the driver pulled out to navigate the crazy Atlanta city traffic. It wasn’t the worst time of day to be on the road yet, but it was getting close to being rush hour madness. Sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic just to go barely one mile stretch of road is never fun. Some days I’d been caught in the midst of the shiny, metallic sea of cars wondering if I could have been home sooner just by walking.

All of the Council offices sit between the magical and mundane realms. Carefully crafted to appear as normal and bland as any other office park building structures just outside the boundaries where the inbetween realms meet. It's a constant for all Council offices to be touching both worlds at the same time given the need to keep one toe in and out at all times to maintain a balanced connection with magical energies. Plus, it offers a great versatile defense to address mundane and non-mundane problems. Alen's office was no exception to the rule. In his case, the surrounding office park never went higher than ground level, so his didn't either. It was useful in the case of mundane emergencies such as a fire breaking out in a nearby building-- there'd be no upper levels to worry about evacuation. Plus, for Alen's work, he didn't need a multi-level office building. In fact, the Council had secured that whole building lot from the commercial realtor to ensure that it was only Council related members ever stepping foot on the grounds. Any work done for building maintenance was strictly Council employed. It just wouldn't do good to have the mundane common folk finding out about magic in a very haphazard way-- not like that's prevented the occasional demon summoning from actually going right off Council-owned territory, but it was the thought that counts. The building itself had a solid brick exterior that appeared to be smoothed over with rounded corners by concrete for some kind of unknown aesthetic or curb appeal to potential business owners. In a way this worked in the Council's favor as hidden wards would curve negative or unwanted energy around it in a similar manner as performing a Kenpo move to use an opponent's force against them, brushing them to the side and let momentum do all the work. Somehow one of the mages specialized in defensive crafts managed to manipulate energies in such a way as to emulate this. It was rather impressive when you sat down and took a moment to think about it, forward-thinking. The odd merge of building design and the metaphysical to create a bit of artistic magic.

The cab driver was fairly pleasant, attempting to make small talk despite the fact that I remained silent as the streets and lights of the road passed by as I stare out the side window. The ride back home felt longer than it really was… not that I was just next door to the property Alen’s office resided in, where the Council had a faux business front to look like almost every other office facility within that business district-- to the point of being cookie-cutter perfect. It was still a good half-hour drive in traffic back to my apartment complex. My apartment complex was hidden within a less than appealing real estate curb which didn’t seem fully intentional but at times it really did seem like someone tried to hide the place as if it were a major eyesore. It wasn’t that bad. Not quite the stellar piece of real estate, sure, but it wasn’t  _ that _ bad. Though try ordering take-out and having the driver call you multiple times because they can't find your apartment.  _ Sheesh… what a pain in the arse. _

At least the apartment gate was currently working again… people kept crashing their cars into the metal railing or the arm barrier if not both. I never did understand why apartment complexes decide to spend so much money on the blasted things-- it never kept people other than the  _ law-mindful _ residents out of the property. Plus, one could just use the bus stop waiting entrance that was designed to provide shelter for the kids waiting outside for the morning bus to gain access. True. You wouldn’t be able to fit a car through that area, but if you just want in… do you need to? The key padded gate at the front was just a big old block of metal sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the entryway if you had a card you could tap and beep your way inside-- _ I _ , however, tended to  _ demagnetize _ cards. So I ended up resorting to using an access code as I didn't want to pay fifty dollars for a new card every week.  _ Definitely can’t afford an expense like that now. _

I didn’t feel like fumbling with my access code just then, so I politely thanked the cab driver and had him deposit me by that bus stop path to get inside. I could use a little bit of a walk anyway to clear my head and run through everything that's just happened. Despite how Alen tried to spin it-- I’d just been fired. It’s a kinda hard pill to swallow either way, but I really didn’t know what I was going to do with all this  _ wonderful free time _ I’d just been granted. I mean, technically it wouldn’t be all free. Since I was off the Council’s payroll, I’d have to get a job of the mundane variety that was more than the temporary contract gigs I took on just to pad expenses. I’d never had a need for much… but I guess I’d have to get a car now-- or plan my day around public transportation.

The mailbox gazebo just inside of the path walkway, a half-baked nightmare of some odd architect's design. Utilizing a cross between a functional shaded space for rows of metal mailboxes and a failed attempt at art sculpture. Stopping by the mailbox gazebo, I figured checking for current mail would be good before I hid away from all of society and the world outside behind the sanctuary of my temporarily rented four walls. It probably would have been better if I’d just walked straight home to my apartment, my gut lurched as the loom of despair hit my stomach upon reading several ‘bill due’ notices in hand. This would be the  _ other _ reason to situate myself into a new job as quickly as possible. Unless the bills started  _ magically _ paying themselves, I was screwed. I’d never been frivolous with my money, but I’d need to be frugal even more so now.

My feet felt like lead the rest of the way back to my apartment building in the complex and up the three flights of stairs to my little hole in the wall. At the top of these stairs, I knew the cranky lock mechanism that refused to work no matter how careful I was about inserting the key awaits me. Maintenance was no help, they kept saying they couldn't find a problem and just put a puff of lock graphite in the keyhole to  _ supposedly _ help fix the issue and call it a day. Going through the usual routine motions, making my way to my apartment door, sliding the key into the slot, then proceeding to fight with the blasted thing as the light above constantly goes in and out during the process. Every time I came home, several minutes were spent fighting with the mechanism just to gain access to the little place I call home.

It really didn’t help that the breezeway light leading up to my residence was always flickering in and out violently-- like in one of those horror flicks just before the nightmarish creature or killer pops out of nowhere between a sudden flicker into darkness then reappearing right next to the victim just as light returns for the big reveal. I'd called about that issue too in regards for  _ resident safety _ reasons and it still hadn't been replaced in months. Apartment management must have rationalized that since a light further down was still working it wasn't  _ totally _ dark and not a potential danger or hazard to other tenants.  _ Just wait until another resident takes a spill down those stairs-- then see how quickly they replace the damn light. _ That thought gave me a sickening pause as I realized for the first time since leaving Alen’s office…  _ I didn’t have my magic. _

I mean… I  _ did _ … and I  _ didn’t _ … my Power hadn’t been taken from me, just sealed up in a box of sorts for safekeeping. One of the worst things about the work I do--  _ did _ … you know about all the nasty things lurking in the shadows, but it’s not so bad when you have the tools on hand to protect yourself. I no longer  _ had _ those tools, not anymore. The uncomfortable churning in my stomach at this realization was enough for me to hurry at fiddling with the lock and finally sliding the key in properly to release the tumblers of the blasted thing and gain access to the threshold of my apartment. Once I gain access to the threshold of my apartment. It's an easy matter to lock the door and security bolt. Releasing the breath I’d at some point sucked in and held without realizing, I double-check the locks and tossed the mail into the small basket on the built-in wall shelf. Oddly placed since it looked like whoever designed the interior wanted to leave an opening for something else, that I still couldn’t fathom what that would have been in the first place before the idea apparently got scrapped after the fact. The curious space still made a slightly useful spot to toss my mail and keys into the basket I’d set there.

Home. Greeted by the dull creme and grey linoleum pattern of the entryway that would, after only three steps, lead into your choice of kitchen or living room--  _ depending on which way you turned. _ The floor plan was okay, a bit on the  _ small _ side, but it wasn’t like I’d spent most of my time at home in the first place.  _ I guess that was about to change. _ The apartment leasing office claimed it to be somewhere around five hundred square feet in size, but I think it was more in the four hundred due to the tight quarters. It was just me, so it’s not like I needed a lot of space, to begin with… but it still felt cramped. Be it ever so crumpled, there’s no place like home. Home. I was home finally.

Continuing straight ahead to the carved out niche that turned into an attempted fancy-looking archway the small space of carpeted crossroads or mini-hallway lead to the stackable washer and dryer unit hidden in the slotted door before me. With the door to my small excuse for a bedroom on the left, and the door to the tiniest bathroom on the right. I push my body to pop through the bedroom door just long enough to toss my messenger bag with the severance packet inside on my bed, sliding off my shoes and socks before turning my tired body to wander like a weak zombie over to the bathroom and begin drawing a hot bath.

Of the minor design quirks the apartment had was one thing I couldn’t find fault with, the spacious garden sized tub. Sure. It dominated the bulk of the bathroom space leaving little room for the toilet and sink itself-- you could literally try to relieve your bladder and brush your teeth at the same time without a stretch, but move the wrong way and you’d fall in the tub. This slight annoyance I felt to be offset by a nice hot bath that one could fully immerse a body in completely was a welcome treasure. Especially when one has been dragged through the streets, sometimes quite literally, after dealing with all manner of things that lurked within the shadows.

The faucet sputters angrily for a moment, bringing me back to the present, the random train of thought derailing as the sound reminds my mind to make an adjustment to the water flow. Okay. Well, maybe there was one thing to complain about, the water heater for said tub. It couldn’t keep up with the vast size being as small as it was for the apartment unit, so I had to stop the bathwater halfway to let the tank heat up again before continuing the water flow to prepare my fizzy soak for the night. At times it did make me wonder who planned the apartment layout and why they would place such a large tub without accommodating it with a properly sized water heater unit. First world problems though, I guess.

In the meantime, I located the lone giant monstrosity of a bath bomb that the leasing office thought would be a cute addition to my ‘welcome home’ apartment gift basket. The little basket had also included a few cute flower-shaped assortments of chocolates wrapped in foil, along with a little key chain, a refrigerator magnet, a ballpoint pen, and a small notepad… all with the apartment name branded somewhere upon each item. It all encircled the comically huge bath bomb that was stated to be of ‘calming lavender’ as its fragrance. I’d been living there for several years now, and not once thought to make use of the blasted thing. To me, it was an archaic bit of mundane luxury that I’d never had a spare moment to consider using. I was always too dead tired and wanted to do the minimum possible and crawl into bed. Some days I only just barely made it to my room in order to crash headfirst into bed.

Today-- I would make the tub water fizz and pop like a mad scientist’s lab… or maybe the stereotyped witch’s cauldron. Whatever. If it worked to alleviate the physical stress my body had endured before the emotional roller coaster that followed, it would be some minor relief. My body thanked me a thousand times over when I slid into that fizzy, bubbly goodness of heated water. A weird thing those bath bombs. It’s like a continuous hissing and popping accompanied by fragrance and suds, it kinda reminded me of Pop Rocks but for your bath. Either way, it was a small comfort to enjoy as my mind continued to race from what had started out as such a normal day for me.  _ Even that is kinda setting the bar low for my standards. _ It’s not like I hadn’t done my job as contracted, but it wasn’t pleasing to the board or whatever consisted of the  _ higher-ups _ within the Council group. Ever since being demoted from active work as a Sentinel. There’d been little contact between much of the workings outside of the contract jobs received when current Sentinels couldn’t handle the heat. It’s like they weren’t being trained to deal with the realistic situations encountered, they play it  _ too _ safe. Well, the bad guys never play safe. They’d toss you and any bystander under the bus if it accomplished their goal in the end.

That was still a bit of a sore spot… I couldn’t help but circle back to my demotion at least once a day-- today probably takes the cake though… retirement. Huffing out an annoyed breath and brushing that chain of memories aside while sinking further into the fizzy warm lavender-scented water. I’m sure my mind would torture me enough by the time I attempt to settle into bed for the night to make up for not mulling over it now. It was time to get some form of a game plan together, that retirement  _ package _ wouldn’t last forever. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to take up a mundane life. Co-existing with it for so long… it’s been like peeking through a mall shop window and having no money to go shopping.

It was a blur of mundane events and passing conversations from the day before I realized I was home, for good now. Perhaps I should be happy the cards fell this way, but it goaded me to think Lady Saundra finally got what she wanted in a roundabout way-- me, gone. It ticked me off…


	3. Mundane Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The momentary "Slice of Life" as a rejected member of Council society... so why now of all times to receive an odd letter from them?

Chapter 3

**Mundane Affairs**

The mundane realm, or as I at times refer to it, the  _ modern _ realm is a chaotic mess that I would rather have little interaction with on a daily basis. Living in the 21st century, a first century of the 3rd millennium is filled with all manner of  _ modern advancements _ for humans. What that means, in a nutshell, is that you have advancements in science trying to push the boundaries within all facets of human existence. Self-driving cars, because mortals were too lazy and distracted at wanting to check their Facebook profile or Twitter accounts while driving that one answer seemed to be implied that letting the car drive a pre-programmed route would resolve distracted driving accidents. Which brings up another thing...the  _ iSomething  _ craze brought about by a reasonably well-known tech company-- if you don't even know their name by that hint, then you've been living under a rock. Probably not exactly a bad thing these days.

The company spurred a competitive back and forth between its technology and other technology in a fight to see who can be the mini computer in someone's back pocket or purse. I wouldn't call them phones… or even mobile phones-- they're portable computers that can store books of information in a teeny tiny electronic device. People still haven't fully grasped the amount of information they potentially lose by forgetting their phone somewhere out in public. It's about the equivalent of a mage losing their working laboratory.  _ You know… if the Council were actually more encouraging of any still having one of those around these days. It's usually heavily frowned upon-- so most have a go-bag these days. _

Then you have oddities such as the AI private entertainment dolls--  _ come on, did you really think that with as much a fixation as science has devoted to ED in men via way of Viagra that this wouldn't be a thing? _ Of course, there have been some other advancements in general Artificial Intelligence technology, but the other is a bit shocking as much as it's unsurprising at the same time. Perhaps years down the line one might refer to this era as a golden age of technological advancements, I mean the medical 3D printing along with the ability to print housing within hours in heavily damaged areas due to natural disasters is quite an achievement. Just these days people are very self-centered than perhaps documented in prior decades.

All the supposed connectivity that mobile devices bring by updating one's  _ status _ or  _ check-ins _ for people on a collective friend list… you still manage to find people staring at these bloody mobile devices when they should be sharing time together. Such as having dinner together or spending time experiencing an event they worked so hard to plan in attending. It's a connected disassociation with the world around them… living only through the device itself. Powers forbid anything happen to that contraption though-- it's like the whole world ends.

Plus I guarantee if you ask any of these individuals for an important family contact number should they not have their device on them-- they'd only be able to remember the quick dial button number instead of an actual phone number. They're losing their memories in the lack of exercise they're using to retain information. I think it's little wonder why the world seems to be less than agreeable these days. For the most part, you keep to yourself, don't pop anyone else's personal space bubble and try to live your life the best that you can with very little external interaction. Then again… this could just be the introverted perspective I’ve adopted over time.

To say I never regretted my separation with Alen and the magical life a few years ago would be lying. The mundane world, when one has the time to sit and observe how it really functions and the people within-- is aggravating. Absolutely, downright positive madness… with a touch of volatility on the side. That’s the special sauce. It’s a chaotic little rat race of people being openly or secretly ugly to one another just to stake their own claim and place in the world. In the end, all the one-upmanship is fruitless-- death is a pretty good equalizer to point out how much corporate ladders and imagined prestige within any organization truly means… unless you end up on the wrong side of a necromancer. That’s a whole other mixed bag of wrongness that no one wants. Though that probably counts more as undeath than death if one wants to get technical on the matter.

Either way, I found it more difficult to adapt to my new life, even with the jumpstart help Alen’s  _ severance package _ provided. At the time I thought it would be relatively easy to find a long term job that was interesting enough to keep me exposed to my new daily life and maintain my role as a productive member of society by the mundane standard. Having what would count as a normal social life outside of work and doing a good job daily that got me paid enough to maintain my personal residence. That  _ ideal _ … that lasted all of a  _ week _ before reality set in hard. Simply because I could never leave well enough alone in the first place. I couldn’t stand the dog-eat-dog world mentality of retail.

Lucas was a special case and point of that mentality, one requiring my personal attention. I  _ may _ or  _ may not _ have booby-trapped my Oreo cookies with a laxative to give the egotistical top sales associates the runs-- he couldn’t really admit to pointing out that he’d been stealing my cookies from my lunchbox without any repercussion from human resources. If asked why I had them in the first place I’d simply state I needed assistance to keep regular… and that was an easier method for me to self-medicate for personal health needs. Which would then bring up the question as to why he was in my personal belongings,  _ my lunchbox _ , thus placing him in violation of work policy-- he suffered silently to my immense pleasure.

He apparently had me singled out from day one to use as the new kicking post around the store to establish his claim as top dog with dominance over all he surveyed. Which honestly, is pretty pathetic… one lousy store in a strip mall that was slowly dying, not really much to hold onto even if he did ever take a regional manager position. I guess he thought I’d never do anything about the cookie theft-- he thought wrong. Oh so  _ very _ wrong. One thing you do not do to a girl working long hours in retail, you do  _ not _ steal her cookies. Ever.

Not unless you have a death wish. Anyway, I was fair, I played by common rules he should have known on his very first day of orientation at work. You do  _ not _ go into someone’s personal belongings and take what doesn’t belong to you. If Lucas wanted to survive without having the runs all day, he should have kept his grubby hands to himself. It probably amused me more because he was a slow learner as it took him a good solid month for him to finally give up on pilfering my lunch box for cookies. I was actually a little sad that I wouldn’t see him fervently excusing himself from assisting a customer to make a beeline for the men’s restroom.

I held that job for probably three months during the peak holiday season before taking my leave of the place. The day in and day out bragging of making bank and who was going to be up for a little gold star beside their name tag only added to my reasons for quick departure. That...and how people in public generally treated those in retail-- demanding the world and then proceeding to have a meltdown like a two-year-old if they didn’t get their way. There were multiple times I’d had store products that didn’t have an expected sale price marked on them tossed directly at me in frustration when the manager-on-duty stated they could not provide a discount due to manufacturer restrictions. If I thought the Council was shit at benefits, I’d yet to really work retail on this level to see otherwise. The hours were crap, you could be called in at a moment’s notice on your day off, the pay was low, you didn’t get hazard pay for angry customers… and good luck trying to schedule any time off to take a break from the daily grind.

Begrudgingly, I had to admit the Council had a better system… even if it wasn’t perfect. It took some time before I worked my way through to office work-life via way of temp agencies-- the whole system is rather annoying, especially when you need to make x-amount of funds to support yourself. Though it was a pretty steady 9-to-5 gig that  _ in theory _ would pay the bills. Up to a point at any rate… the fluctuation with taxes and fuel for a car would make for some unexpected expenses. Let alone the poor car itself-- it was mostly an old beater car that I’d managed to cobble up the money to get as a means of transport. I should have known better than to settle on that dull grey FORD Taurus, otherwise known as my ‘fix or repair daily’ car. Under the hood was a cramped layout of engine guts, so it was easy to see why most mechanics didn’t particularly have fun working on the beast. Even  _ I _ didn’t enjoy working on it, for as much as I’d managed to learn on my own at keeping the darn thing running-- a transmission could only be patched up so many times before it was done...and right now, it was looking like it was on its last legs. I could only hope to save up just enough money to obtain a new car or a way to get to and from work regularly when the poor hunk of metal finally gave out on me.

Once upon a time, the bright lights and annoying glare of retail store lights illuminating… and reflecting from aisle upon aisle of metal product shelves was the working grounds that was more commonplace to me on a day-to-day basis. However, since retail politics was getting bad for my overall health-- the office realm became the new hunting grounds for consistent wages at the end of the week. I’d managed to navigate my way through a few temporary work agencies that found my current position as a front desk receptionist. I actually think that’s a highly inaccurate term given the responsibility normally placed on that title. You are basically the office gopher and guard dog.

My new workplace was pretty simple and basic for an office structure. The company itself was set into a three-level building with me established at the front desk of a lower office for a tech management company. The building exterior was nice and smooth, a semi-stucco finish in light browns and cremes blended together. The outside double pane glass of the main entryway went from the ground up to the top of the building and was a pretty turquoise blue mirror finish that would blindingly reflect all light cast upon it but allow those from within to see outside clearly. It made the building look like a gem hidden within smooth stone as it stood along the treeline of the business sector road and only a few miles off from the nearest restaurants and grocery stores.

Upon entering the floor was a nice cream marble that blended in nice cool ice cream cup swirl among the small patches of light earthen brown rugs where decorative tables or tall potted plants made their home. Placed and maintained by building management. Though even the plants couldn't keep the center hallway from feeling less than vast in how the space was since the interior architecture spans up for a tall opening above save for the center walkways that cross over instead of being parallel to each other on the second and third floors. That gave the ability to have a bright glassy dome centered at the main center of the building to cast even more natural light in from above as well as from the main entrance doorway. At the very center, there was a large red compass stone mural embedded in the floor, red arrows notating the main cardinal directions with a circular band of mustard gold to encircle it all and add little halfway marks between each of the four arrows.

It was a contrast of color outside of the green plant life to offset the dark wood lined hallway before reaching the set of doors for each of the business tenants of the facility. Apparently, that's where some individual customization was allowed, within reason without breaking from the main architectural realization. Most of the offices kept with a glass door with the business logo and lettering in their particular brand attached as a decal to the upper portion of their individual door. There was one tenant at the top of the third floor that had some curious mural of sorts surrounding their door, it was apparently the only exception to the rule in that building and since it was less likely to be seen by anyone visiting unless looking specifically for that company, it seems the business leasing office didn't mind. I forgot what they did, I got curious once and it appeared that they did game software development, might have been a privately owned Kickstarter company of sorts. That was just my guess without chatting it up with one of the front desk ladies.

Most of the offices didn't intermingle unless representatives from each business tenant were called into attend the annual fire safety meeting. Each business was left to run things as they saw fit within their offices provided it didn't affect the leasing office or other tenants. One thing few rarely ever looked for around in the building was the stairs. There really is no excuse for missing them though, they're right beside the restrooms to either side of the compass centerpiece of the ground floor on all levels of the building. Yet for some reason, there's always someone that gets confused when the elevator is undergoing maintenance. The darn thing kept breaking down for some reason, that was one good reason not to trust it and get locked inside the bloody elevator then having to call for service maintenance to come save you.

Regardless of how often this happened, everybody still wanted to used the blasted contraption… you'd  _ think _ that they'd save themselves the time and stress to just take the stairs. It was like playing Russian Roulette with the lift every day. It's not like there were more than three floors to the building in total, and no one outside of building maintenance was allowed up onto the roof. Thankfully, my office was on the first floor and straight ahead after entering at the very end of the hallway going north...according to the floor stone compass, at any rate. It wasn't actually  _ True North _ though, it was put in for aesthetics and not actually designed to line up with a compass.

That would have put True North on the floor at a left angle instead of the current floor centerpiece markings and since they couldn't shift the way the building was facing without major restructuring, it was designed as it appeared now. I found it somewhat amusing that the building designer would go through all the trouble of making the stylish floor decor and forget to check for True North before the foundation was made. Either way, my vast mahogany looking reception desk resided behind a locked security glass double door preventing random solicitors from gaining office access without being buzzed in through the front.

It was rather amusing to see how many would try the door first and then look up at me without reading the ‘no solicitation’ sign right above the handle on days I have no appointments scheduled or even hitting the little talk call box to the left of the entrance to inquire why it was locked. Regulation mainly. A lot of trade secrets that not just anyone could be waltzing in and out of the office door without putting the company in violation of some contractual agreement. I can't believe how many asked to come in and use the bathroom when I stated that there's none in the office in the first place and pointed out that the restrooms are actually located to the left and right of the main hall compass. Some quietly realize they're not getting in without an appointment. Others...they storm off in a huff. But that's apparently my job-- office guard dog.

Today, just like about every day as of late, was another mind-numbing cycle of typing out memos and e-mails for various needs within the office. Don’t get me wrong, it was by far better than the retail Alpha pack posturing for some imagined rung on the ladder of  _ importance _ as encouraged by the business heads. There’s just only so much my mind can take before I start editing and re-editing my words to make them perfect so that I’m not spending my thoughts focused back on my past and the meaning of life. Forty-two by the way...in case you were wondering about the meaning of life. I think there was actually an article that recently stated scientists were able to count out the number of protein molecules in a single cell-- forty-two million but it’s close enough… it’s still forty-two. Anyway… I digress.

The day-in, day-out routine for me has been anything but… mundane. I’d thought for a split second that I’d actually enjoy dealing with my  _ imposed retirement _ from the Council when beginning this desk job. Though apparently, my  _ early _ retirement meant there would be some stipulations to what I can and cannot do. One of those major stipulations being able to access my own Power-- the Council couldn’t exactly take it from me like relieving a normal retired individual of company property. It was mine by birthright, awakened and earned over the course of many years at a very young age. It didn’t matter that I had it before the Council and enlisted me as a Sentinel for a time. They couldn’t very well have me  _ potentially _ creating havok by involving myself in business that I didn’t belong in… and they knew good and well that I wouldn’t be able to break old habits and watch from the sidelines when I saw trouble. I never could deal with not being more directly involved when I knew what was going on and could do something about it-- I hated feeling helpless.

Their solution to the matter was to seal my  _ easy _ access to tapping into that Power, with the caveat of any attempts to breach that seal would notify the head members to bring the hammer of pain down upon my head. Neither  _ I _ nor  _ they _ expected such to occur, and it was more...how did Alen phrase it-- oh yeah ‘a formality’ in my case. Keeping me basically outta their hair while they did  _ Council _ stuff and I… I attempted to live a  _ mundane _ life. It was… okay. But… even still after all this time I missed the work I’d complained about as Sentinel… and even as Custodian. It was a natural part of me to do the job, regardless. I guess in a sense it was just in my blood… or veins… however, that phrase went…

I didn’t realize how much I’d actually miss it all until I was denied access to that way of life. I was on the outside looking in, I’d know and recognize all the signs when I came across it… but I couldn’t do a damned thing. It’s not like Sentinels have a kind of 9-1-1 emergency number to call and report an incident. Though… I guess if something I’d run across was of the dire nature and not a moderate inconvenience level-- I could probably summon someone to the scene by attempting to access my Power and paint myself as a kind of homing beacon. Still though… it just didn’t seem fair to have to sit on the sidelines and just  _ watch _ everything as it unfolds. Not in my eyes… and not to the poor individual caught in the crossfire.

Okay. I’ll admit that even when I still held the position of Sentinel-- it was a rough job to be able to cover the full district granted within a day’s work of patrol and response to incidents. Some tasks could last a few minutes and others could last an hour or more. Plus there wasn’t always a lot of members to cover all the different areas on a map, most of the time a Sentinel’s workload was far heavier than warranted as it spread them too thin. Just as there weren’t enough hours in a day, there weren’t enough Sentinels on active duty. There was supposed to be some program in place to  _ initiate _ new blood into the ranks before my tenure as Custodian ended, but I’d not seen much of the progress for that. However, if they were training these newcomers in the same manner as the active Sentinels that I’d often get called in to clean up a mess for-- that plan was not going to end well for the Council.

“Rhi? … Rhi … Rhi,” a woman’s voice, a little tired sounding yet still soft and lilting… Beth…? “Are you working late? It can wait until Monday, you know? There’s no rush if you’re still checking into the trip arrangement now-- that’s still three months out…”

“Ah… no-- you’re right,” coming back to the present day surroundings of the front reception room office space and it’s curiously active orange and smooth vanilla creme theme coloring the walls, making me think of creamsicles most of the day. “I just get carried away a little at getting things done. You know me…”

“You’re a dear, but you should go home… have a drink or something. Relax,” she pauses to flash a bright smile while sweeping back a stray strand of auburn hair from her eyes, giggling just a tad before continuing. “It’s the weekend. Go make plans.”

“Ah… right,” smiling and providing the token relieved short laugh she expects while returning a pleasant smile of my own as I proceed to close down programs and log out of the system computer. The moment I’d started packing up my messenger was when I’d heard Beth’s heels click-clack their way out the front door as she figured once I’d logged out she didn’t need to moderately supervise me to ensure I finished packing up to leave for the day. My mind was still stuck in the past today, it’d probably do me good to just go ahead and call it a day. It didn’t take long to straighten out my desk for Monday morning. I didn’t have to go around the office and turn off lights to  _ close shop _ so-to-speak since the night cleaners would take care of that.

I forget how empty the parking lot looks on Friday-- most cut out of the office as early as possible, so it’s almost a ghost town by the time I start walking to my car. Which also means that there’s no one to ask for help when the engine doesn’t turn over… it just whirs and whines at me before coughing and sputtering to deathly silence. Thus forcing me to walk back inside and use the front desk office phone to call for a tow truck to bring the metal beast to my mechanic, who by this point would be closed for the day. Unfortunately, they’d also be closed for the weekend and effectively leaving transportation-less until next week to see what additional patch-up work could be done. It might just be worth getting another used car at this point. The repair quote might just end up being the cost of another used car give-or-take a few hundred dollars. I guess it was a good thing I had the  _ full weekend _ to myself-- I’d have to figure out the public transit schedule for Monday to make it to the office on time.

For whatever universal reason there may be… you will always be waiting a minimum of one hour for a tow truck, regardless of what time of day you reach them. It’s like no matter what dispatch system exists, an available driver is timed to be exactly an hour’s drive away from your location. Regardless of traffic or lack thereof… That left me with  _ far _ too much time to continue my prior thoughts before Beth interrupted their flow. In the time it took for the tow truck to arrive, I’d thoroughly mulled through my past and present life, effectively putting me into a sour mood. I kept polite as the driver hitched up my car and took me to the shop to leave it overnight, sliding my spare key with a note in the ‘after hours’ drop box. The gist of the note basically stating ‘tell me if she’s salvageable or if I should be planning to invest in a transit card’ which was my special code with the shop to tell me what the bare minimum of repairs would be needed to get the beast running just a little longer. Given the host of pending repair work that was needed already under the  _ normal maintenance _ category-- all the work I’ve had done over the past month has just been one bandaid after another to keep her running.

The wait was longer than the process of dropping off the vehicle, and perhaps the driver of the tow truck was a touch empathic, either that or despite the neutral mask I attempt to keep still betrays my hidden scowl.

“Miss,” the light drawl in his voice catching my attention from double-checking that the note was safely in the dropbox and couldn’t be retrieved from the outside as I waited for the tow driver to detach the car and have me sign off on the paperwork. “Ya need a lift back home? Friday night is a busy night to find a ride at this hour.”

“Uh… y-yes, if you wouldn’t mind, please?” Caught a bit off guard by the offer, for whatever reason, it was a small blessing that he felt prompted to ask if about needing a lift back home. “I’d greatly appreciate it-- if you didn’t mind. Thank you.”

Kurt, as his work shirt patch identified him to be, just gave a nod as he gestured for me to hop up in the front cab of the truck as he finished getting my beast of a car in a parking spot of the mechanic’s shop. He kept up a polite conversation on the few miles left between the shop and my apartments and bid me a good night coupled with the best of luck on my car. My total commute home that night, including the side drop-off stop at the repair shop, was just a little over three hours. That… didn’t make me feel like cooking tonight, so take-out of some kind would be on the menu. After I decide the age-old question of Chinese food or pizza delivery.

I had Kurt drop me off by the winding bus stop pathway to the apartment complex and trudged my tired body up to the sculpture-fail mailbox gazebo to grab the handful of mail waiting for me. About the only real burst of energy I had was to bolt up the stairs to my apartment door and fumble with the lock to get inside before any boogie monsters could slip out from the darkness as the breezeway light flickered on and off overhead. It still hadn’t been fixed in all my time living there, but supposedly building maintenance claimed they put a brand new bulb in… and it just started doing this lovely yet annoying light show five minutes later. Maybe I was being a bit overdramatic, but it was a very real threat to having something slip through shadows to reach out and grab at a person. Outside of shadows, mirrors were honestly one of the next worst dangers to be around when the supernatural was involved. The gym beside the leasing office contained enough un-warded vanity mirrors for a ridiculous number of potential doorways elsewhere, so I kept my distance. Without access to my Power, I’m more or less a sitting duck.

A defeated sigh passes through my lips as I toss the mail into the entranceway basket to sort through later and secure the locks to my apartment door. That was not a thought I wanted to be reminded of… and tonight it just seemed to feel more compounded after the evening I’d been having. If I’d had free access to my abilities I could have easily warded the main public common area sections of the complex-- it’d have done me and the residents some good. Of course, it was just a tiny blip on my radar as I worked for the Council more back in the day.  _ Powers, I sound old… back in my day… ugh! _ I just didn’t have the foresight to see it might have been good for my sudden retirement to the mundane life.

Speaking of blips, the answering machine to the phone in the kitchen was blinking with an annoying red light to notify me that I had one message pending. In this day and age when most would rarely have a missed call because of the  _ connectivity _ that cell phones provide, I still had to resort to a basic landline. Mobile devices didn’t like me if they didn’t act batshit crazy when trying to navigate menu apps or even something as simple as attempting to text, the battery would die within the hour. I still attempted to try using the most basic of cell phones without all those flashy touch screen gimmicks, but even a Nokia mobile device, which is somehow  _ legendary _ in its own right at holding a charge will fade in my presence. The office I work for now, all the staff just got used to making sure they had their charger on hand since I started working there. I was like this odd walking EMP field at odd times, even the laptop computer I had to use was more archaic per our IT department and it always needed to be plugged in just to get my work done. It was  _ manageable _ but slow as molasses running down a jar. Basically, the office IT guru, Deke, was tired of heading up to the front reception desk about every five minutes to figure out what new  _ blue screen of death _ error I’d managed to create. It honestly baffled him, but he’d found a workaround… older tech that would be the bare minimum to use the main system programs to clock in and out while accessing the world wide web.

Deke only found half of a workaround though, in reality, I think it was more the trial and error research of my own observation to me being present around more technological gadgets which flood the world today. There was a major overflow of energy hitting these devices and it didn’t know quite what to do other than shut down in a self-preservation move to prevent circuits from frying. I’d never had to work around a lot of electronic devices before my retirement, so it slipped past my notice. I pieced together that my mood or temper could set things off… provided I kept myself in a Zen-like frame of mind, less things went boom around me. Though I’d also found that stringing up a bracelet of normal quartz beads to wear upon my person at all times acted as a filter of sorts for my naturally untapped energy, it diffused the potency and stored it up in the stones. Because I couldn’t access my talents without bringing a Sentinel to my door, my body couldn’t help but retain that pool of energy to the point of overflowing. I’d never realized until after my forced retirement just how much having the regular excursion to address a Council matters had in turn helped keep my energy levels balanced.

Of course, this presented another problem, as I shortly discovered over time these bracelets would snap once the energy they stored from me hit a point of overflow in its containment process. This in turn meant I’d end up making a new bracelet every so often to help defuse my energy and leaving me with a handful of charged stones. They could be used as mini batteries of a sort, but since I couldn’t utilize my talents anymore because of the imposed seal on my abilities-- I honestly didn’t know what to do with these. They’d be useful in a pinch to draw from, but my current situation wouldn’t allow for that. I wish I could ask Alen about this, but I was on my own now. I’d collected so many of the darn beads in such a short time that I was having to figure out where I can find more space to store them. To those able to see or perceive energy such as this, it probably looked like a tiny beacon hidden in the corner of my apartment bedroom. Not ideal on the long term to keep myself obscure from notice to anything that might still have a beef with me from my prior tenure as Sentinel or Custodian.

Pressing play on the answering machine greets me with the irritating bubbly voice of Micha reminding me that the last rent payment still didn’t appear to have transferred and cleared properly and it’d be good to contact my bank and let the leasing office know on Monday about the payment status resolution to avoid getting placed into collections and the beginning stages of the eviction process. Assuring me in that  _ understanding _ tone of bubbliness that as a long time tenant she’d held off knowing I have a good past record of payment history and this was likely a little hiccup in the system, but it’d been some time and it needed to be sorted as soon as possible as she’d extended the time frame for me over most and yadda-yadda… tzzt! The message cut out abruptly as the whole digital display on the answering machine went dark. As soon as I’d realized my fists had been clinched tight after the first word from bubbly Micha on the speaker, it clicked why the device had suddenly failed.  _ Temper. Temper. _ Chiding myself as I unplugged the unit from the wall outlet with a sigh to help it recover.  _ That’s it, I’m done-- pizza for dinner tonight! I want to bury all the bullshit in bad carbs and an oven cooked jumbo chocolate chip cookie for dinner, just because! _ However...I’d just need to ask my next-door neighbor to make the call for delivery since the little surge took the phone out earlier.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too long before dinner arrived.  _ Thank goodness for small miracles tonight. _ It just took the usual forty-five minutes to an hour that seem to be standard for pizza delivery these days. At least it gave me a chance to freshen up from work and the rest of the evening chaos. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I felt somewhat human once again… and a lot less irritable. Feeling it was safe to plug in the answering machine at this point, while in my calm mood, it was a pleasant surprise to see that I hadn’t fried the contraption with my anger as the LED lights flickered to life with power flowing in from the wall outlet once more.

I was in the middle of finishing up with putting dishes away in the cabinet when a knock sounded at the door. The young, still-in-college student, pizza delivery guy exchanged my tasty wheels of carbs for the cash I still had on person since my last trip to the bank. I’d been meaning to stop by after work tonight but… plans changed. Taking my bounty of the warm, gooey sausage and pineapple sprinkled over a thick wheel of Italian seasoned cheesy bread, I helped myself to a couple of slices on a paper plate.  _ Like hell was I going to worry about dishes anymore after the way my night had been going… _ I set the hot and bubbly choco-chip cookie wheel of doom on the counter beside the partially opened pizza box for later, my desert.  _ Soon cookie. Soon. Very soon. _

All grumpy tummy rumbling subsided upon the second two-slice serving of pizza, more than satiated from cheesy goodness… and with all the walking I’d likely have to do this weekend without my car, I gave zero thought to the calories that might imply I’d just consumed. Though before breaking into the cookie box, I figure it would be best to sort out the mail and give my stomach a breather, plus with all the bad bills about due to arrive before the end of this month… that cookie might serve as a more  _ therapeutic _ desert. A very tasty one at that.

Most of the mail was as expected. Electric Bill. Junk mail flyer to sign up for a new gym membership. Yet  _ another _ Chinese take-out menu to add to the growing collection in the  _ menu _ drawer. An AARP act now special. Coupon flyer for the grocery store chain down the street. Gas Bill. You too can get your hearing aid at cost, just schedule your hearing appointment with us today! Phone Bill. Water Bill. Council letter. Trash Bill. Cable Bill.  _ Wait- what?! _ I’d been flipping and tossing the pieces of mail to one side or the other based on whether it’d be sent to  _ File 13 _ or actually something I needed to open and read when it finally registered what I’d flipped over to the  _ File 13 _ side of the table.

“No bloody way…” I could feel both my words and breath catch in my throat as I reach over and flip the Council letter in hand several times for closer examination. A knot of dread tied itself in the pit of my stomach as I briefly wondered if this were a summons of some type for a noticed infraction or slight violation regarding my part of being  _ uninvolved _ with Council matters. I mean… I hadn’t tapped into my Power in even the slightest, that’s why I’ve been having a number of problems with technological gadgetry at this time. Though… there was that time I left an anonymous note in an area I knew a Sentinel would spot after an escalation of damage to the local park close to home. I could feel Gaea’s pain even if I couldn’t respond to the issue on her behalf but… no, if that’d ticked the Council off for the indirect tip to the situation-- they’d have broken down my door by now.

Slipping a finger under one corner, not even bothering to hunt for my letter opener right now, I parted the seal with the utmost care to access the contents within… a letter… from Ms. Alice? A brief greeting of minor pleasantries and checking in on me, so far that’s normal. My heart stops as my eyes freeze on the middle paragraph of the letter-- Ms. Alice is personally requesting my help against the recommendation of the Council.  _ Well, fancy that! _ Continuing on, she states she’ll go through details in person over coffee if I’m agreeable to considering on taking the job. She’d arrange for another Council representative to meet with us to acknowledge my acceptance or declination of the contract. All I’d need to do was give her a call so she could arrange a meeting place, date and time. I could feel a mix of anxiety and relief flood my veins with those words. I doubt that a year’s left me rusty at the work which was second nature to me just like breathing. My excitement for the moment drowns out the curious thought as to what could be so complex that I’d even be considered as a potential resource since I’d heard nothing from the Council since my mandatory retirement had been imposed.

My feet carried me the distance from the dining room table in near lightning skips before I’d even realized it with the letter still in hand. I had the phone off its cradle on the answering machine with my breath held in, listening for the tell-tale hum of the phone dial tone.  _ YES! We’re in business! _ Now, all that remained was to make that call.


End file.
